Snippets Of Me

Scooters

Sunday, August 20, 2006

I think there must be some sort of bad blood with me and scooters. We just can't seem to live in harmony on the road.

As a kid, I always feared the sight of one particular scooter pulling up at the carpark at ma ma's house. That place, though a keeper of many fond childhood memories, also carries along with it some fear that expired since I stopped spending weekdays there. You see, I had this uncle who owned a scooter and who was as unpredictable as the weather. One day he could be as nice as Cinderella's fairy godmother and another like hurricane Katrina. On days he decided to put on some fairy dust, we little devils enjoyed things like ice cream, soft drinks and roti prata. However, when he became the devil instead, it was to our best interest that we cower under the dining table and blend into the wallpaper.

Needless to say, he played the grinch role more often than not, which cemented this element of fear of him into our systems. Naturally, his daily homecoming was the epitome of that fear. The feeling's like playing hide-and-seek at the point in time when you know you're bound to be found because you hear the seeker just an earshot away from your hiding place and your heartbeat starts to pick up speed. Imagine feeling that way everyday. That scooter of his which he came home in was the thing I hated seeing pulled up in the carpark below. I think that's ample reason for disliking scooters and people who ride them.

Stereotypical? Perhaps.

There's no denying that things like these such as my uncle and his scooter can leave permanent imprints of dislike and to a small teeny weeny itsy bitsy extent of fear for similar things and situations. In this case, scooters and their riders just make my muscles tense and annoy me.

Childhood traumas aside, this stupid mode of transport has been cause for prejudice on not one but two occassions. If almost being knocked down by them TWICE counts for nothing, I don't know what does.

So you really can't blame me for hating scooters.

Stupid Scooters.

Rachel wrote in the pages of her life at 6:06 PM

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